Breaking Down the Wall
by Tokiooo
Summary: Behind every person is a story. These stories define who we are. Many people, however, hide their true selves from the world. These are the real stories of Chad Dylan Cooper and Allison Munroe, two teens who built a wall to hide their true selves.
1. Flipped Upside Down

**Yes, I know I'm working on the other fanfiction, but this idea came into my head so I had to start it. Hopefully you'll enjoy it! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I'll give a shout-out to everyone who reviews because reviews really help me see what you want from the story and where you want this to go.  
****Before anyone asks, I am thinking of pulling Channy into later chapters somehow. I'm not entirely sure how yet, but I do have a slight idea.  
****Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the idea and the plot line.**

_Everyone knows Sonny Monroe. She's the "bubbly ball of sunshine that warms the hearts of millions of adoring fans," according to Tween Weekly. She's proud of her Wisconsin roots, loves nature, and would do anything to please others. No one knows Allison Munroe. She's struggling to keep her horrible past behind her while faking a grin. She tries so hard to forget the horrible day that flipped her world upside down. She tries to hide the emotional and physical scars that came from that dreadful day in 1999 when almost everything she loved was taken from her. She was only 8, still young and innocent; carefree. She loved life and everything about it before that day. Now, to Allison, life is just given to her so she can suffer. She knows she will one day snap, but until then, she hides behind the wall that is Sonny Munroe. _

I guess I'll start from the top. I wasn't born and raised in Wisconsin; in fact, I was born in New Jersey in 1991. I was the first daughter of Connie and Richard Munroe, though I was their second child. My brother, Shawn, was born in 1990. We were your typical upper middle-class family, living in a moderately large house in a gated community in Somerset. We hardly knew our neighbors, and we only interacted with them when it was absolutely necessary. My father was a banker, while my mother was an interior designer, well known in the area. Both my brother and I attended a private school, which was ranked among the top private schools in the state. We were in a safe part of town, where crime was as frequent as a snowfall in Florida. This was basically why we were so unprepared when all hell broke loose on March 23, 1999.

It was a warm Tuesday morning. My brother and I were walking home from the bus stop after school. When we walked through the double doors leading into the home, we knew something was wrong. My dad wasn't there to greet Shawn and me at the door, something he'd done every day since we'd first started going to school. I dropped my Scooby Doo backpack and called out for my parents. Shawn and I heard footsteps, but when the man came into sight, we realized that something was definitely wrong. A man in a dark mask walked up to Shawn and me. He grabbed us both, and when I started screaming for help, he slapped me across the face. "Shut up, or I'll kill you all," he threatened. That was the only time I screamed the entire time the men were at our house. The man that was dragging my brother and me across the house finally let go of us, then commanded us to sit down. We obeyed, sitting quickly on the ground as he pulled out dirty strips of fabric to bind our hands and legs. He then blindfolded us and taped our mouths shut. He told us that if the tape ever came off our mouths, we'd be shot point-blank. We sat in silence as another man came out of my parents' bedroom with both my mom and my dad. They'd had their mouths taped shut as well, but I couldn't see this, and I wouldn't until the men left our house 3 days later.

The men started rummaging through all of our things. They searched our closets, our drawers, my mother's purse, my father's desk, and even my small silver piggy bank for anything that interested them. After they'd filled their van, 2 of the 3 men left to stash the items while the other man stayed at our house, swinging a gun around, threatening to shoot us if we made any sudden movements. We all stayed still.

Through the next 2 days, we sat in silence until my father was asked to get up and go with 2 of the men. They were going to have my father rob his bank. He was not allowed to tell anyone at the bank what had been happening. If anything went wrong, the gunmen were going to kill him and someone else in the family, though they didn't say who, probably so they would scare us even more. For 3 excruciatingly long hours, my mother, brother and I sat in silence, waiting for the men holding us hostage to return with my father, safe and sound. For 3 hours, I did nothing but bite the inside of my cheeks. For 3 hours, I had no other thought in my mind except the horrible thought that I might not ever get to see my father again.

I was right. I never did see my father again. When the men came home, they immediately went up to my brother, shot him point-blank, then left.

My father messed up, according to one of the men. He must've tipped someone off at the bank, because the police sirens started going off and the bank employees all looked panicked, one of the men explained to the man who had stayed with my brother, mother and me. The men took my father to an alley near the bank, shot him in the head, and left. The police said my daddy didn't die right away; it was a slow, painful death he endured. As one of the men gave a moment-by-moment explanation to the man who'd stayed behind, I could feel my heart drop into my stomach. I held back all my tears in fear of having my mother and me get shot as well. Shortly after the men returned to our house, they grabbed all evidence that they were ever there, slammed the door, and drove away. For 30 minutes, my mother and I sat in silence, in case they were still in the house. Once we were sure that we were alone, my mom got untied, then helped me break free of the tape and ropes. When we looked at the horrific scene left behind, we both started crying out every ounce of water in our bodies. My brother laid in a pool of blood on the floor. All family portraits were gone. Our scrapbooks were missing. Every memory, every picture, and every form of identification we had of Shawn and my daddy was taken. We had nothing.

The worst was not knowing exactly where they put my daddy's body.

We were heartbroken. All we could do was cry.

And for 3 straight days, that's all we did.

**Well, what did you think? Review please!**


	2. Who I Am

**THANK YOU TO ****hannahpie45****, ****Princess of Destruction99****, love-cdc, one-crazy-ninja-chick, WizardsANDSonnyLUV, and SWACfan8649. And a special thanks to Stars1029 for helping me with this. **** On to the story!**

**

* * *

**

_Not everyone wants to be rich. This statement fits Chad Dylan Goldfarb to a tee. All he'd known his entire life was money. Money tore apart the marriage of his birth parents. Money turned him into a miserable person. Money was the only reason Chad was in the entertainment industry. The money his birth parents had caused constant fighting, screaming, and abuse towards little Chad. Though at a young age, he was taken from his original parents and adopted by a new family, the Coopers. The Coopers were fabulously rich, maybe even wealthier than the Goldfarbs. Chad was spoiled after he was adopted by the Coopers, but he lacked one thing in his life, the one thing he wanted most. Love._

I'm not this horrible puppy-shoving person everyone thinks I am. I might come off that way, but it's because I don't know how to be nice without sounding dumb. Maybe it's because of the way I was treated when I was younger. Obviously you want to know. You are listening to me, after all.

Basically, I was born Chad Dylan Goldfarb on January 11, 1991 in Los Angeles to Chad Michael Goldfarb, a successful Hollywood lawyer, and Sondra Lee-Goldfarb, a lazy gold-digger from Chicago. My dad loved my mom, and my mom loved my dad's money. She felt nothing for him. She pretty much used him for sex, fame, and money. She lived the high life, spending hours on Rodeo Drive in little boutiques and stores only the rich and famous shopped in. She was handed everything she wanted. When I was 3, my dad lost a major case, ruining his reputation. He didn't earn as much money anymore, so my mom decided it was time to move on to a new man. She cheated on my dad, and she was horrible at hiding it. Let's just say one day, she came home with a bag of pregnancy tests, all reading positive. My dad was furious. I was too young to understand exactly what was going on, so I would constantly ask questions like "Daddy, why are you yelling at mommy?" Daddy didn't like these questions, and neither did mommy. Their anger towards each other was lashed out on my poor little face. There were nights when I'd be bleeding profusely through my nose, and my parents didn't give a damn. They'd send me off to bed, telling me to, and I quote, "shut the fuck up and stop complaining. You're nothing but a waste of my time," so like a good child, I shut up and went to bed, crying my eyes out. One day, when the maid walked in, she happened to see my mother, in a drunken rage, beating me with an empty wine bottle. She immediately called 911 and social workers picked me up immediately. Both my mom and dad were arrested, but I never figured out what happened to them.

Once I left the Goldfarb household, I was sent to foster care, which was miserable. I was shuffled from household to household, not told when I was going to be leaving. The older children picked on me, beat me up, and stole my food right off my plate. I cried every night I was in foster care. Thankfully, it didn't take longer than a year before I was adopted by the Coopers.

The Coopers lived a fabulous lifestyle. I was driven everywhere in a limousine, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and they bought me everything my little heart desired. They might have spoiled me, but they never gave me the attention I wanted. They got me into show biz against my will. I hated acting. To me, acting was for preppy girls to get attention from men and for hot men to get attention from the ladies. It was too easy. Pretend like you're someone else and suddenly you've got a wallet thicker than the dictionary and a bank account involving a number with more than 7 digits. The Coopers loved this. Not the acting, the money.

* * *

**So, what did you think? I had to rename the story because I decided to add in Chad's point of view. I don't know if you guys like this or not, but I think it will be easier to write this way. Reviews are greatly appreciated and much wanted! I do shout-outs to all reviewers ;) Doesn't that make you want to review even more? :D**


End file.
